HalfHeart
by Violet Fire
Summary: Dianthelle is a half-elf and a princess of spies. She is raised to despise the elf, and so does asher father dies and she must take his place at the Council. But can she fight her tender emotion toward LEgolas? Will a l/t encounter mend her heart? R&R PLE


Half-Heart Dianthelle opens sapphire eyes and raises her sword. Varresale does the same, while smiling confidently and running her fingers up and down her blade. Dianthelle draws in a deep breath, then slowly looks to her right. Her father stands with her two best friends. Feminine Vlakalile stands to his left, her sable hair cascading down the front of her white dress, her pale left hand up in a half-waving gesture. Her sister Ceyelline stands at her right, wearing golden chest mail and a confident smile. Her father Fernemire, king of spies looks unnerved. There are deep worry lines beneath his silver crown. Dianthelle smiles confidently at him, but it only make him look more upset. As.ule's.mile A strange thought enters her mind but she shakes it off. Dianthelle is the daughter of King Fernemire of Fraldien, a town of spies and assassins on the borders of Gondor and Rohan. Mostly everyone is highly skilled in the arts of battle here-even the women. Dianthelle is very strong. She learned how to use a sword when she was only five years old by her father and has been practicing for nine years now. A mere child she is compared to Varessale, but still. Her opponent keeps her hair very long, down to her thighs and keeps it down while wearing full dresses in battle. Dianthelle keeps her hair just above her lower back and up as she fights-like most women in Fraldien. It is custom for women to keep their hair that length-to tell them apart from the men. Dianthelle made the mistake of questioning Varessale's ability in battle while wearing such garments. It enraged her to challenge fourteen-year-old Dianthelle to a duel-where the both of them wear long dresses. If Dianthelle loses she must wear a dress to battle from now on. If Varessale wins she must never wear a dress again. Dianthelle is confident. Her father says she has much skill, almost equal to the much older Varessale. The countdown begins. Varessale closes her eyes, the sunlight making her inky hair glow. Dianthelle braces herself, the sunshine dancing off of her flaxen hair. The countdown ends and Dianthelle charges forward, aiming for Varessale's exposed waist. At the last second she lowers her sword and repels the attack. Dianthelle twirls to the left to avoid Varessale slitting her neck ear to ear. The princess flicks her wrist to the right. Varresale takes a step back to avoid losing her eye to Dianthelle's sword. Watching them spar is like watching a dance, though most are only watching Dianthelle move so very gracefully, the sun dancing on her hair and her skirt moving in perfect proportion with the rest of her body. She sweeps her sword across the ground in intention of hitting Varessale's legs, but she jumps to avoid it, then crushes down with her blade. Dianthelle dodges just in time, escaping only with a nick on her arm that leaks some blood. But now Varessale has exposed herself. Dianthelle swishes her sword to the left. The tip of it touches Varessale's unarmed chest. The crowd explodes into applause. Dianthelle cuts Varessale's arm, only enough to match her own injury, Fraldien custom. But Varessale does not lose easily. She pulls something from her belt that Dianthelle realizes only when it is in her flank what it is. The knife is lodged to the hilt. Dianthelle collapses in agony just as Varessale walks away. Through blurred vision she sees Vlakalile kneel next to her, her sable locks bouncing off her chest as she does so. "Where is Varessale?!" She hears Ceyelline demand through blocked hearing, and a sword being unsheathed. A cool hand touches her face, but it belongs not to Vlakalile or Ceyelline or her father. She looks to the left. Sitting next to her is a woman beyond beauty. She has long, cascading flaxen hair and pointed ears. Her fair hand rests upon Dianthelle's left cheek. The stranger's eyes are the bluest Dianthelle has ever seen, but darkened with obsidian lashes. Her crimson lips are moving and she speaks in a tongue Dianthelle has never heard before in her life yet understands. "Dianthelle my daughter, I am here to help you." Taleen la thai. "Hear me. Listen to me. Come to me." Everything else is going black. Now all Dianthelle can see is the woman and darkness. "Dianthelle!" She sees her father now. The woman is gone. Vlakalile is here too, and Ceyelline. But darkness is coming again. Who was she? What would happen if I went with her? Dianthelle wonders as she is being lifted up and the knife is painfully removed from her side. And as the darkness completely envelopes her, she wonders: Will I ever see her again? 


End file.
